


was war, was wird

by Molnija



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Character Death, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Idk this is weird, M/M, Mental Institutions, Mute Iwaizumi, Recovery, i suppose that's what i'd call it, not really but this was the closest tag to it, post-post-apocalypse?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: They need to cut the hedge again, Hajime thinks as he’s sitting on the grass in the garden. The voice mentioning it is Oikawa’s, he’s said this same sentence often enough for it to get stuck in Hajime’s mind, to the point where he isn’t even sure whether he believes it himself. If he’s being totally honest, the hedge looks fine to him. A little high, maybe, but nothing that would warrant outrage.





	was war, was wird

**Author's Note:**

> seriously this is weird
> 
> don't be fooled by the tags, this isn't really shippy. the biggest relationship emphasis is probably the Iwaoi friendship, the rest is just kinda there. it's mostly a character study I guess? idk I have no idea what this is I only know it took me ages to write
> 
> wanted to make this M but it doesn't really warrant it? so have a T. still. it feels more M. there's no violence or smut or anything but hm
> 
> title means "what was, what will be" in German and I stole it from an old poem I had. that was a hopeful poem. this one ... uuuuuuuuuh ...

_They need to cut the hedge again_ , Hajime thinks as he’s sitting on the grass in the garden. The voice mentioning it is Oikawa’s, he’s said this same sentence often enough for it to get stuck in Hajime’s mind, to the point where he isn’t even sure whether he believes it himself. If he’s being totally honest, the hedge looks fine to him. A little high, maybe, but nothing that would warrant outrage.

Perhaps it’s just Oikawa’s sense for aesthetic that drives him to say such a thing. It doesn’t matter in the end, he figures, there’s not too much to see behind it, just acres of barren land and much further in the background the silhouette of the heavy, unbreakable wall. If anything, he prefers staring at green leaves over the browns and greys of everything beyond. He sees enough of those every day when he looks out of his window, sees the neat line between infertile wastelands and artificial, too bright colours dripping with a certain sense of _fake_ that he’s never particularly minded. At least this place is trying to be cheerful.

He doesn’t understand why Oikawa scoffs at it. From everything Hajime has heard, he’s been through worse than most of them, although he at least has been with someone he cares about, unlike Hajime himself, who has grown numb to the pain of losing it all long ago. He doubts he could go to such lengths to protect someone anymore like Oikawa has, at least right now. Before, definitely. Someday … He does not know.

Hajime looks at everything and nothing at all, tired of his everyday view but patient enough to wait. The others got out eventually. It takes time. He’s in no hurry, not anymore.

 

* * *

 

It’s not Oikawa he meets at the dinner table (one of too many, made from a material that’s bright white and stings in the eye almost as much as the orange walls), but Kenma, a quiet, fragile boy with thin limbs and glassy eyes who speaks almost as little as Hajime. He likes him, even though it’s unclear whether that feeling is mutual; at least Kenma doesn’t seem to mind his company, instead scribbling away on a notebook, filling the clean white pages with red and black. It might be people, if alive or dead he cannot tell, and dark rain pouring from the sky.

He’s not a good artist, but Hajime thinks his drawings are powerful nonetheless.

Hajime raises a hand as a greeting before setting his plate on the table and sitting down opposite to Kenma, receiving a nod, about the most elaborate answer he’s gotten so far.

Whatever it is that they are trying to promote as food here looks more like someone had taken the dirt from outside, mixed it up with water, and dumped bright blue paint on it, but it’s warm and filling as usual. He still hasn’t quite managed to find out what they’re eating nearly every day, but it doesn’t matter, as many things don’t, he doesn’t really taste anything anyway, much less smell it. Oikawa always complains about eating it though, so it’s probably disgusting. It’s in moments like those when he finds he can enjoy losing several of his senses.

Maybe he’d be more appalled by this entire world if he still had them. Maybe he’d see what Oikawa sees.

He shovels some more of the food into his mouth, watching Kenma draw until there’s hardly any white left on the paper, and when they’re both finished he stands up, nods, and goes to clean his plate, not paying any mind to the people around him.

They don’t interact a lot. Everybody is only here to leave, and that’s when life truly begins.

 

* * *

 

Those who start out friendly and extroverted usually catch up to the rhythm of this place pretty fast and learn how to stop caring, but there are always some exceptions. Oikawa is one of them.

Hajime hears the high-pitched “Iwa-chaaan!” before he sees him, not that he needs to, it’s an image that’s been burned into his head by now. Sure enough, Oikawa comes running down the hallway, Akaashi close behind him, and everything is like it always is.

“Are you going to bed already?”

Hajime nods and rolls his eyes – it’s early, sure, but Oikawa shouldn’t act like he doesn’t know he’s going to say yes either way. Even so, the other boy pouts, and Hajime turns his gaze to Akaashi, who just sighs and shoots him an apologetic look.

Sometimes he wonders why it couldn’t have been Akaashi who proclaimed himself as his new best friend. The he remembers that Akaashi would never do that, because Akaashi still has some sense of respect and privacy. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to rub off on his partner.

“You’re boring,” Oikawa says and gently slaps the top of Hajime’s head. “Without me, you wouldn’t even have friends!”

 _That’s because you’re an anomaly_ , he wants to say, but he hasn’t found a good method to convey words beyond the simplest ones yet, so he has to sit this one out. Thankfully, Akaashi has his back.

“I’m sure he appreciates it,” he responds, the sound little more than a murmur, “but we’re not here to make friends.”

He’s right, of course. Hajime figures that Akaashi is often right. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Oikawa knows that too, and yet he doesn’t appear to accept this reality. It’s almost enviable in its own way.

Oikawa waves his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. Our social life starts once we’re actually able to build one, this is for our own safety, blah blah blah. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start!”

Hajime hasn’t known Oikawa for long, it’s been a little over a month, but he can’t help but think that it sounds very typical for him. He’s among the few people who are at least making an effort to be as positive as possible. It’s refreshing, but exhausting; he isn’t quite ready yet to pretend that he’s used to all this and most of his energy is drained by the simplest of everyday tasks. Some people have said that they find others like Oikawa or Terushima, who left two weeks ago, energising. Hajime is not one of them.

Akaashi takes Oikawa’s arm and pulls him forward ever so softly. Wonderful, perceptive Akaashi who knows that Hajime is about as tired as he must look. They exchange glances as Oikawa waves before they part ways again.

Encounters like these are common, so they’ve stopped being exciting long ago. He just craves solitude, even though he’s drowning in it already.

 

* * *

 

His room is small and filled with only the necessities like all of them, the walls clean and a soft pink. Almost nobody bothers with decorating them, even though they’re allowed to; there’s no need to make it feel like home when you know it isn’t. The only exception he knows of is Kenma’s room, quick glances inside revealing his drawings pinned to the wall and differently coloured bedsheets crumbled on the mattress. Even Oikawa doesn’t seem to care. Then again, his room is mostly deserted, the only one he’s ever seen him in is Akaashi’s.

They’re inseparable, those two. Hajime thinks it must be nice to have someone like that, who you can trust and care for. It must be why despite everything, they seem at least some kind of normal and will probably leave soon. Terushima was similar, although he was alone, too cheerful for this facility of the broken, and was let out a mere two weeks after his arrival. Mental strength like that is admirable, and Hajime wishes he still had it, but it has all been replaced by an overwhelming desire not to care.

He showers with ice-cold water, it’s not pleasant but it makes him feel something at least, brushes his teeth, and goes to bed, buried under thick but papery covers, and he doesn’t fall asleep until hours later.

 

* * *

 

There’s someone new at breakfast.

It’s the first since Terushima, and the fifth since Hajime. Quiet chatter is filling the room when he walks inside, unusually so, but maybe it’s the aura surrounding the newcomer.

He looks strange, his body muscly yet too thin, with dark skin and messily cut black hair and eyes that seem too desperately to try to be friendly. He isn’t fooling anyone. They all know what it’s like, and he must know that, too.

He’s going to be one of those that start out loud and then settle into silence.

Hajime isn’t surprised when he sits down across from him on the other side of the table. It’s the one with the least people sitting at it, only Kenma doodling away at the far left and himself. Oikawa and Akaashi aren’t here, they hardly ever are in the mornings. He would have done the same.

“Good morning,” the man says; his voice is raspy and kind and reminds him of earth. Once upon a time, it might have been beautiful. Now, all he associates with it is death.

He nods as deeply as he can, only to not be rude, and wishes he had a piece of paper, but asking Kenma for it seems uncalled for.

“I’m Sawamura Daichi,” he continues. “I got here three days ago, but they wouldn’t let me go until today.”

Three days is very little, Hajime thinks. It took him fifteen.

“He’s Iwaizumi Hajime. Mute,” a small, whispering voice comes from the end of the table. Kenma doesn’t look up, but Hajime is grateful for him, if surprised. It’s not like him to speak up, and he didn’t think the boy remembered his name.

He wants to return the favour. It’s never going to happen.

“And you are?” Sawamura asks and Hajime thinks he tries too hard.

Kenma doesn’t say anything. He wonders how he ever got his name out of him.

They sit there in silence for a minute until Sawamura says, “Sorry.”

Hajime shakes his head and waves it off. He shouldn’t be sorry for trying to be nice, even if it doesn’t go well with this place’s atmosphere. It’s going to be a useful trait later when he gets out.

He still goes quiet and the silence is more awkward than it is comfortable, Sawamura shifting in his seat and sneaking glances at Hajime that don’t go unnoticed. The crowd has calmed down, too, the only noises heard the clinking of spoons against cups of what he supposes is tea.

Sawamura eyes the dark brown bread in front of him sceptically, his expression almost comically similar to Oikawa’s when he first saw it, and takes it in his hand, weighing it as if that would change things. Hajime gestures for him to just try it, it surely can’t be that bad if everyone’s eating it, not that he knows.

With how thin he is, he must be hungry, but then again, they’ve all grown wary of what they can and cannot eat and there’s no reason for Sawamura to be different. If you eat everything you find out there, you’re either lucky or as good as dead, more often the latter.

Eventually he takes a bite, and his face falls when he realises that it’s dull and hard to chew but not dangerous. Well, it _looks_ dull at least. Hajime wonders if they have something else outside of this place, and if they do, whether he could appreciate it. Something that doesn’t take minutes to swallow even a small bit of would be nice.

But then again, there’s no reason to withhold it from them even now, so he won’t get his hopes up. In the end, what matters is that they don’t starve, and without a sense of taste he’s better off than most.

He takes his own bread, chews carefully but without a care, all the while watching Sawamura’s reactions. If Oikawa’s so intent on him making friends, the newcomer might be the best bet. He has a feeling they could get along.

They finish their food in silence, taking their time while the cafeteria empties at a steady pace.

 

* * *

 

The meeting with his assigned professor goes as always.

He’s asked questions he forget as soon as he answers them, the words scribbled on the notebook his only reminder that this is a thing that happens and he’s taking part in it. _I’m fine_ , says one of them, and another, _I trust you to know the right moment_.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice (one that might be his own but he hasn’t heard it in forever so who knows, really) says that reactions like these are the exact reason he’s still here.

They want to give him small work and he complies, spending the rest of his day helping in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes until they sparkle because he has nothing else to do anyway and it’s calming him down, and by the time the sun sets and his hands are sore from overuse he feels some sort of alive again.

He’s a fast learner, the kitchen workers say, and that he’s probably going to make progress quickly. The phrasing annoys him but he nods regardless.

He doesn’t see Sawamura at dinner, and Oikawa and Akaashi don’t run into him either.

Hajime thinks that his life is dull and grey despite the colours around him, but he can’t be mad, as it’s better than the world out there and that’s everything that counts.

 

* * *

 

“They need to cut the hedge again,” he hears and this time it’s really Oikawa saying it. His hand is intertwined with Akaashi’s as they sit on the bench next to a window on the second floor. Up here nobody would care about the garden, nobody but Oikawa, it seems.

Hajime watches them closely, leaning against the cold blue wall. Oikawa stares out of the window, his expression distant, and his thumb strokes Akaashi’s hand absentmindedly. The other looks worried, his gaze fixed on his partner’s face. Both of them have dark circles under their eyes. They barely stand out from anyone else like this. Most people here don’t sleep a lot.

They’re waiting, the three of them – he doesn’t know for what but it’s obvious there’s something coming, it will reveal itself sooner or later, he figures.

“Iwaizumi-san,” a familiar voice says, surprised but not really. It was obvious they’d run into each other again sooner or later. There’s not too many people in this facility.

He turns his head to Sawamura, who has stopped in the hallway wearing a simple white shirt and simple black pants and he’s changed his black hair to a simple short cut and he thinks _Good, he’s catching on_ and wants to say _No need for the honorific_ but nothing comes out.

Hajime nods in greeting, there’s not much else he can do, really, and it’s at this point when he suspected Oikawa would say something akin to _You have friends, Iwa-chan?_ , but he’s not even reacting.

“Sawamura-san,” Akaashi says, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

What _did_ he expect? At least they know each other, sparing all of them another introduction.

“Ah, well, I’m on my way to the main office.” Sawamura rubs his neck, a gesture that might be nervous or that might be trying to be friendly or maybe both or neither at all. Hajime can’t tell. “I still need to work out some stuff with Washijou-san, about how long I’ll stay and all that.”

He remembers his own talk with Washijou vaguely. He doesn’t think they ever specified anything. Maybe that’s just his own case though. Sawamura seems more stable in comparison.

“Washijou’s not gonna help,” Oikawa murmurs so quietly it’s a surprise all three of them catch it.

Akaashi shifts in his seat and softly clears his throat.

“So far he’s done a good job,” Sawamura counters and Hajime has the sudden urge to punch him. If he’s learned anything here it’s to not start any arguments, even if they’re small. Nobody here wants conflict. They’ve had enough of that in their life.

Sawamura can’t know that, obviously, but Hajime would have figured he’d understand regardless.

Oikawa doesn’t change his posture, keeps on gazing out of the window as if nothing happened, but his eyebrows are furrowed now, a scowl on his face. “So what if he has. It won’t change anything.”

“Tooru,” Akaashi warns.

Hajime manages to exchange a look with Sawamura, trying to communicate to him to let it go. Thankfully he gets it.

He coughs awkwardly before shaking his head. “I don’t really know anything about this place, so I’m not one to judge. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Uh, see you around.”

With that and a nod that lasts a few moments too long he turns and leaves, soon enough disappearing around a corner.

When Hajime looks back at Oikawa, he’s shaking.

 

* * *

 

The young man on the small stage in the basement has gelled up black-and-white hair and Hajime thinks he looks really silly as he’s trying to juggle three yellow volleyballs. Considering that he only has one arm, it works less than well, but maybe that’s exactly what they need right now.

They do this sometimes, bring in people from outside and let them perform whatever they want to. It’s supposed to motivate them, give them a reason to work harder to leave, and it works sometimes. This time it’s more like a comedy act though. It’s nice to have some entertainment at least.

He can’t blame the leaders of this place for not trying to make it as easy as possible. They’re not bad people, after all, and he doubts anyone is capable of truly wanting anything other than some well-deserved peace.

“Right, that’s Bokuto!” someone a row in front of him whispers. “I knew he looked familiar. It hasn’t been that long, huh?”

Their perception of time must be off, because Hajime doesn’t remember anyone by the name of Bokuto, which meant he left before he even arrived here. Or perhaps he just doesn’t remember; most of his earlier days are a blur in his mind, some bits and pieces sharper than others but mostly incomprehensible.

Bokuto tries his best as the light colours him green and blue and purple and Hajime thinks that he must be embarrassed but if he is he doesn’t show it. It’s admirable.

If he was the one up on that stage, trying to do something he clearly can’t, he’d just feel uncomfortable. So he stays low, sinking into the deep read plush seat as if to disappear, and watches, always just watches and tries to imagine a life he can never have again but one he may want, someday.

Oikawa next to him giggles when Bokuto accidentally throws a ball into the audience. “Sorry!” the man shouts and doesn’t look sorry at all.

Hajime feels a smile growing on his face. He likes this guy, he thinks, even if he knows nothing about him. If he did, he’d probably grow weary of him soon, but he doesn’t, and that can sometimes be a blessing, too.

 

* * *

 

When they go upstairs again, Oikawa is complaining about how he almost got a volleyball to his face near the end of it when Hajime spots Sawamura a few meters away from them. Their eyes meet almost immediately and Sawamura smiles, honest and steady and Hajime thinks it’s amazing how he can appear this positive.

“Sawamura-kun,” Oikawa says dryly.

“I thought I saw you in the audience,” Akaashi says, ignoring his partner’s shift in mood. “That’s unusual for someone this new.”

Sawamura walks over to them quickly, laughs a little. “So I’ve heard, but I was curious.”

He’s strange, Hajime thinks.

“Your optimism is to be admired. I certainly couldn’t do it.” Oikawa doesn’t look like he’s admiring him at all.

“I just think we need to make the best of our situation,” Sawamura answers and there is no malice in his voice, only a certain sense of understanding that makes it clear he knows exactly what this conversation is implying.

In another life these two might have been friends.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a week and he hasn’t seen Sawamura since, but he’s been feeling uncharacteristically restless and when he meets with the professor, he looks at him for the first time in ages.

His name belongs to the part of the memories Hajime has successfully tried to forget, but the nametag on his desk reads _Naoi_. He has short spiky black hair and friendly dark blue eyes and hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes but there’s something about him that seems almost proud, even.

“Ono-san said you’re a big help in the kitchen,” he says, and Hajime vaguely remembers Ono to be the head chef’s name. She’s not a good cook, but a good person at least. “Do you enjoy the work?”

He takes a piece of paper and decides to be honest for once. _As much as you can enjoy scrubbing plates_ , he writes, and Naoi laughs.

“I guess it’s not the most thankful of tasks. Do you get along with your colleagues?”

 _We don’t really talk_ , he scribbles down, and after a moment of consideration, he adds, _The only one who ever really talks to me is Oikawa, and I’d appreciate if he didn’t for a change._

“Oikawa-kun, huh,” Naoi murmurs. “We’re all kind of confused about him. You don’t suppose you could tell us a little more?”

Instead of writing something down, Hajime shrugs. Oikawa’s as much a mystery to him as he is to anyone else, except maybe Akaashi.

Naoi sighs deeply. “Shame … He could be a great asset, but he’s making things really difficult … But anyway, this isn’t about Oikawa-kun. How are you?”

Hajime stares at the paper for a moment and taps the pen on the desk repeatedly. How is he? It’s a good question. Usually, he’d write _fine_. And he is fine, he’s alive, he has a bed and food and water and he’s thankful for all of that. What else can he say? _I’m feeling bad_ would be a lie. _I’m feeling nothing_ is a little closer, but lately it doesn’t seem to apply either. After a while he writes, _I’m not sure._

Naoi inspects the words closely for about a minute. Just when Hajime is about to ask him if he’s okay, he looks up at him again. “Do you want to leave?”

The question is unexpected and for a moment he just stares and blinks. What is he supposed to answer? Yes? No? I don’t know? Which one of those things would be worse? And is he really prepared to leave the shelter of this institution?

Slowly, he picks up the pen again, writes _I_ , then stops, crosses it out again, starts over. _Should I want to?_

It feels a bit like a game.

“Ideally yes, but all of us understand if you don’t just yet,” Naoi says, slowly, choosing his words carefully, it seems. “Once you leave it will all be like before. On a smaller scale, sure, but with similar stakes and responsibilities. You’ll essentially live a normal life again.”

What even is ‘a normal life’? How long has it been since he’s last known it? Surely things can’t be the exact same as they used to be.

And yet, if it’s even remotely similar … Is he ready for that?

The easy thing would be to stay. He doesn’t have to pay for anything, he gets what he needs to survive and if he even has a friend. Two, if you count Akaashi. And maybe Sawamura.

What would Sawamura say? He hardly even knows him, but from everything he’s seen, he seems just about ready to leave even after this short amount of time.

Then again, so does Oikawa, and there’s something much less than stable about him after all.

What they’re all searching for is most definitely ‘stability’, he knows that. That’s the ultimate goal and the reason they’re all here. They want them to work as a community and society, but that’s only possible when their mental state allows it.

 _I want to, but I don’t know if I can_ , he writes.

Naoi says nothing for a long while. Then he nods, smiles at Hajime, and dismisses him.

 

* * *

 

The world around him is grey, grey ash floating from the grey sky to the grey dirt underneath his feet. Even his own skin seems grey, like his hair, his eyes, his clothes. There is nothing around but grey skeletons of trees and grey ruins of buildings and grey air that’s making it hard to breathe.

Yet, he feels strangely at peace.

He doesn’t remember for how long he’s been walking. His body has stopped hurting long ago and now it only feels numb, a deadweight he has to carry around whether he wants to or not. Letting it drop sounds so, so tempting, but he knows for a fact that he can’t, because for once, this is actually okay.

He will cherish this moment until the next storm, the next attack, the next time he dances on the edge of starvation, exhaustion, suffocation. He owes them this much at least.

 

* * *

 

The sun hasn’t risen yet when someone knocks at his door before just throwing it open anyway.

Hajime sits up straight in his bed when he sees Oikawa storm in, his cheeks as red as his eyes, his features warped into something between anger and sadness, and he doesn’t say a word until he drops down next to him and whispers, “They want him to leave.”

Akaashi. Of course. He’s always been thinking about Oikawa, completely dismissing the fact that while he’s rather nondescript, Akaashi has been one of the most stable people he’s met so far.

Hajime places a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, unsure of what to do. Even if he had his voice, no words would have come out – what do you say in a situation like this?

So instead, he does his best to listen.

“He says he wants to stay for as long as he has to but … I _know_ it’s best for him if he leaves and he can’t put up with me forever and … And … And I just want him to be fine but if he leaves _I_ won’t be and I’m never gonna get out and …” His voice trails off into incomprehensible whimpers before he finds it again, breathing, “I’m so scared, Iwa-chan.”

Half of him wants to punch him, so he does.

“Ouch!” Oikawa yelps, rubbing his head. “What was that for?”

 _Idiot_ , Hajime says with his eyes. Of course he’s gonna be fine. And does he really think Akaashi is just going to abandon him? That guy may be quiet, but Hajime is convinced he’d go through hell itself and back to make sure he can be with Oikawa. He’s not stupid. He knows how important he is.

And hell, even if he does end up having to leave, it’s not like Oikawa is alone. He was the one who forced his friendship on Hajime, now he’s got to deal with the damn consequences.

If he were able to say all that, he’d throw it right in his face. For the first time in ages he misses his vocal cords.

Instead he grabs the notebook and pen from his nightstand and quickly scribbles a summary. _Fuck off, you’ll be fine. He’s not gonna leave you. And I’m your friend too._

“I love him though,” Oikawa whispers and Hajime rolls his eyes.

_No shit._

“When did you get so mean?” Slowly, his voice seems to be coming back, even if it’s still raw and low.

 _I’ve always been, I just didn’t care for a while_ , he writes and stops in his tracks when he realises that he’s saying the truth. Well, not that he’s mean, but that he didn’t care. He doesn’t know why he suddenly does. Things have changed in general lately, when he thinks about it.

“I’m revoking this friendship.”

_Nah, you’re stuck with me now._

For the first time, he feels grateful for that.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Akaashi is still here and Oikawa looks a little more stable and Hajime sits across from Naoi in his office, the second piece of paper for this session already half filled.

 _I’m not leaving before Oikawa_ , he insists for the third time today.

Naoi sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re making progress fast, Iwaizumi-kun, why are you so intent on staying?”

Honestly, he’s kind of sick of this place. These last few days he’s spent exploring, strolling through the building and realising it’s much smaller than he initially thought. Sawamura has, as expected, grown quiet, and they haven’t really seen each other, much less talked.

Some said the hedge is fine as it is, growing higher and higher. Hajime understands why Oikawa thinks it needs to be cut. There may not be much to see behind it, but even wastelands are still something that’s not _here_.

But he can’t leave. On the off chance that Akaashi’s really thrown out, he has to be there for his friend.

_I happen to care about the well-being of the people I like._

“That’s deserving of praise … But I feel like you’re holding yourself back. If you’re by any chance in love with him …”

Hajime pulls a face and quickly scribbles, _No._

When he thinks about it, Oikawa’s more of a brother to him. A brother he doesn’t know very well, but still one. It’s definitely the closest platonic relationship he’s had in a while. He doubts he would even want that to become romantic if it was possible. Frankly, he doesn’t know whether he’s still capable of loving romantically in the first place.

But hell, platonic love is binding enough.

Naoi laughs. “Well, not that it matters. I just want what’s best for you.”

 _What’s best for me is to not worry about my best friend_ , Hajime writes. _He’s done a lot for me._

“This is precisely why we tell you you aren’t here to make friends,” Naoi says, exasperated. “Our number one goal is to create a functional society, if every good person stays back for longer we’ll never get there.”

_Doesn’t a functional society start with supporting each other?_

“Well, yes, but that’s only—” Naoi stops mid-sentence, shaking his head. “The function of this institution is to help you guys recover from the terrors you’ve seen, not more and not less. It’s not as much preparation for outside as it is … A way to get you to be able to prepare in the first place. And honestly, Iwaizumi-kun, I think you’re ready.”

He knows that. He’s been feeling good lately, better than at any other time he can remember. But maybe that’s precisely why.

_I’m not leaving before Oikawa, and that’s final._

Naoi sighs.

 

* * *

 

Hajime finds that once you’ve started to care a little more, it becomes obvious why you didn’t before. The atmosphere all around this place is numbing in a way. Sometimes it’s hard to not fall back into his usual patterns, and he catches himself staring at a wall with nothing on his mind more than once.

He needs to be occupied in some way, to keep the thoughts flowing like blood. If he stops thinking, he’ll fall back again.

So he scrubs plate after plate, starts helping with the food, too, learns the names of the guards in front of the main entrance he meets when he takes out the trash. They don’t talk much, but they look at him with understanding. He thinks one of them is mute like him.

Two days after his last meeting with Naoi, someone new walks into the kitchen.

 _He’s early_ , Hajime thinks when he looks at Sawamura. Of course he knew he’d come, it’s not like they just suddenly shove new people into established workplaces without telling them. But he thought it wouldn’t be for another week.

They tell him to help with the dishes, as if Hajime wasn’t already fast enough.

Sawamura smiles at him awkwardly, and Hajime smiles back, obviously catching him by surprise. They haven’t talked in a while. He still knows him as … What even was he before?

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says and Hajime nods. He’d like to say something in response but it’s pretty much impossible, and even if his hands were free, he doesn’t have a pen handy.

He shows him how to best and fastest clean the dishes, and Sawamura is a fast learner so they’re done quickly. He has him help with his other tasks too, and they don’t really talk but Hajime thinks it’s comfortable nonetheless. He doesn’t feel like he has to make an effort. They’re a good team, so good that they leave early just because there’s nothing left to do.

 

* * *

 

The last thing he remembers is unbearable pain obscuring his senses, and something (someone?) carrying him until the blackness closed in completely.

The first thing he remembers is waking up in a hospital-like room surrounded by bright white, not feeling his own body anymore, and an old man with cold eyes looking down at him.

 

* * *

 

“So, essentially …” Naoi flips through the pages of the folder and Hajime thinks that these meetings are becoming annoyingly common. “We don’t have all that much space … Or all that many people, really, but we’re growing, so we need to plan this strategically. Which is why …”

He pushes the open folder over to Hajime, who furrows his brows when he sees that it’s a waiting list.

“We’ll have two people live together per room. They’re small but big enough, kind of like apartments. If you have a request on who it should be, please say so. Also …”

Another piece of paper is pushed in his direction. It reads _Language Lessons_ at the top. He raises an eyebrow.

“We’ve started doing lessons recently to help with communication,” Naoi explains, “including for sign language. You should learn it if you have the time, this right now is impractical, as you’re probably also thinking.”

Oh, thank goodness, he’ll be able to actually _talk_ again. Even though that won’t help him if nobody else learns it, the prospect excites him nonetheless.

_When can I start?_

“Once you’ve settled outside of the faculty,” Naoi says and Hajime groans, rolling his eyes. Of course. Now they’re trying to lure him out. He can’t deny it sounds tempting, but his point still stands.

 _So not before Oikawa leaves._ Sometimes it’s only his lack of a voice that’s stopping him from telling him to hurry the hell up and recover.

Naoi shakes his head, slowly, as if he’s lost all hope already. “I understand you, I really do, but it might take a while still. Oikawa-kun’s definitely getting better but he’s still uncooperative and … I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”

That damn stubborn bastard. Hajime knows he doesn’t like the authorities, but he thought him smart enough to put that aside in order not to have to deal with them anymore in due time. Instead he’s only holding himself back. He doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s heard him complain many times.

It’s not like Hajime likes them. He doesn’t hate them, either. They’re here, they have to be, they just want to create a world they all can live in and he’s willing to work with them if it’s beneficial for him and those he cares about, simple as that.

 

* * *

 

They sit in the garden, Sawamura eating a piece of what Hajime assumes is bread. His disgusted face is funny and he can’t help a silent laugh.

“I hope they have something better on the outside,” Sawamura says after swallowing.

 _I hope you mean on the outside of this place, not the actual outside, because if you don’t I have some very bad news for you_ , Hajime quickly scribbles on his notebook. He’ll be glad when he has an alternative.

“Who knows? Maybe they’re hiding something from us.”

_Yeah, maybe it was all a dream and behind that wall is actually a giant amusement park._

“With free rides.”

_Obviously._

They’re quiet for a while but it’s comfortable and Hajime thinks that maybe he’ll ask him to live with him once they get out. He doesn’t know how far Sawamura is, but if he can joke about the outside with him like this, he’s probably going to be fine.

“No, nothing will ever get me out there again,” he says after a few minutes, and he’s staring at the hedge. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit too high? The hedge, I mean. Everything else is so neat, but they’re just letting it grow.”

It really is a shame Sawamura and Oikawa don’t get along. Together they may have been great.

 

* * *

 

He says nothing for a long time, just looks at him as if he’s trying to convey words that cannot be spoken. Hajime would like to understand but doesn’t, and it isn’t until a sigh heavy from life and too many expectations leaves his lips and he speaks up that he thinks, _Oh. Right._

“I’m leaving,” Oikawa says. “With Keiji.”

 

* * *

 

_Is this your doing?_

Naoi catches him by surprise when he laughs. “No, I have nothing to do with those two, and I didn’t influence anyone, if that’s what you’re implying.”

 _Why are they leaving then?_ It hasn’t been so long. This is a ridiculous change of heart.

“I don’t know,” Naoi says plainly. “I’m assuming the others have grown tired of Oikawa-kun’s uncooperativeness and decided to just let him go, and Akaashi-kun has been ready for a while, but I’m not clear on the details.”

Hajime crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m serious!”

He thinks that maybe being out of the facility will help Oikawa more than the people here can. Maybe it’s the atmosphere here making him go crazy, and once he’s back in an actual society he’ll be much better. Different therapies work for different people after all, and he was never completely unstable to begin with.

Still, it does sound suspicious. He doubts he’s important enough for them to just throw Oikawa out like that after all the problems though.

“However …” Naoi sighs, as he seems to do a lot lately. “If you stay a little bit longer … A week, perhaps, maybe less … Sawamura-kun’s going to be good to go, and I’ve seen you two together a lot lately. If you leave together, you could share a room without all the paperwork of switching people around.”

It sounds good, too good, but he’s seen Sawamura and he knows they’re probably right.

Hajime nods and writes, _I’ll ask him about it and come back to you._

 

* * *

 

There’s a boy with dark, curly hair, with thick eyebrows and light skin and a grin on his lips, a boy that he loves like the world he dreams about.

There’s a girl who’s like a sister to him, small and frail and nervous but brave when she needs to be, a knife in her hand and brown eyes that speak of fierce love for her friends.

There’s a man so sturdy he thinks he’s survived the apocalypse through sheer willpower, his old age apparent but not hindering him when he leads their group.

There’s a boy and he keeps on fighting and smiling no matter what hardships they’re going through, and he wonders who he is, as he has never seen him before.

 

* * *

 

Their new place is big enough for the two of them, with a small kitchen, a small living room, a small bathroom, a small bedroom. He can see into the city centre from their two windows and he likes it, watching busy people running around outside, friends stopping to talk to each other, gesticulating wildly.

It almost looks familiar.

His new job is in administration but he won’t have to start until next week, like Sawamura. It’s interesting they both ended up in the same field, he would have assumed his new roommate to go into a more physical field, like what little farm work they can do or even help in a kitchen again. There weren’t too many choices. His only own criteria was ‘somewhere where you don’t need to talk a lot’, for obvious reasons.

The two of them are also taking sign language classes now. There are a few people with them, including Oikawa and Akaashi, the latter of which is working in the same office as him. It’s good to know they can still keep in contact, and Oikawa looks much better than he ever did back in the facility (which he now knows is really called the Rehabilitation Institute. The name isn’t all that fitting).

All in all, that ‘normal life’ that Naoi liked to talk about must be this, bright and boring and not that different from how things used to be before the world fell apart. Sometimes when he takes a certain road he’ll get a feeling of nostalgia, or a memory flashes across his mind, and he likes it, because it’s proof that even though outside of these walls the earth has become a place intent on killing its inhabitants, there was something before that, something that getting back is worth fighting for.

 

* * *

 

It happens quietly, with hardly anyone noticing.

At first, he thinks Oikawa is being awfully quiet when they meet, and leaving all too soon instead of bugging him for hours on end.

Then, one day, he doesn’t come to the language class at all.

It wouldn’t be strange for him to skip one, or maybe he overslept, or needs to work. What makes it strange is that Akaashi is there.

When Hajime asks him what’s wrong, he receives a small, shaky smile and a shake of his head. _Nothing._ He doesn’t believe it.

Then, a few days after, he sees him on the marketplace, arguing loudly with a fabric salesperson on how _I don’t care if the world has ended, I won’t pay this much for cotton_. Why he needs cotton in the first place is beyond Hajime, as he doesn’t think he can sew.

In that moment, he looks almost okay again, until he comes closer and sees that Oikawa is pale, too pale, and his hair is dull and his eyes are underlined with purple.

Akaashi is nowhere to be seen.

When Hajime asks him what’s wrong, all he gets is a laugh too loud to be natural, and he says, “The world, that’s what’s wrong. Other than that, nothing.”

 _These guys have a strange understanding of the word ‘nothing’_ , he signs to Sawamura, or, well, attempts to, it’s probably all wrong but they’ve developed their own way of communicating that both of them understand.

“Oikawa and Akaashi?” Sawamura asks, looking up from his cooking pot. Ah, yes, their favourite dish, red mush. “They’ve been apart a lot lately, but I don’t think anything is seriously wrong.”

 _Have you even seen Oikawa?_ Hajime shoots back, complete with their sign for ‘Oikawa’, a peace sign. _He looks terrible._

“Most of us do.”

He does have a point, this food doesn’t seem to be all that healthy. But would it really be that bad?

 

* * *

 

_Cut the bullshit and tell me what’s wrong._

He wrote the words out on a notepad instead of signing them so there would be no confusion whatsoever as he’s standing in the doorframe of Oikawa’s and Akaashi’s apartment.

They’re together now, at least, Akaashi reading a book on the sofa and Oikawa holding up the cotton he did buy in the end.

“Seriously, Iwa-chan, nothing is—”

_Oikawa, I swear to god._

His friends exchange a glance and he doesn’t miss the pain flickering over Akaashi’s face for a split second.

Oikawa then takes a deep breath and looks him straight in the eyes, foolish mask dropping to be replaced by weary, final sincerity.

“I’m going to die.”

 

* * *

 

The girl lies in the boy’s arms, him patting her back and saying “there, there” from time to time but it does nothing to stop her tears and the violent shaking of her body.

The man sighs, scratching his forehead. “We all knew this would happen eventually.”

“No!” she screams, buries her head into his chest. “No, no, no! It won’t! It won’t happen!”

He watches the three of them from afar, his heart empty. _We all knew this would happen eventually._

They did.

He did.

 

* * *

 

“That’s why they left me out, because they didn’t want me to spend what few weeks I still have in there. I’m okay with it, really, everything’s better than in here.”

Akaashi is shaking, and Hajime feels a familiar emptiness as he slowly, ever so slowly realises that Oikawa is being sincere.

 

* * *

 

“I won’t let you die! We’ll find something! We’ll find—”

“There’s nothing to do,” the boy says with a tired smile. He looks like he’s made his peace with it. “Unless you find a doctor’s office. Now get away from me, we don’t know if it’s contagious.”

The man places his hand on her shoulder, eyes stern but sad, as if he, too, was grieving. “Hitoka,” he says.

“B-but he’s going to … We can’t just _accept_ it! Ukai-san, we can’t just … We can’t …” She’s interrupted by a heavy sob, clinging to the boy’s shirt for dear life.

 

* * *

 

“They really thought they could do something. That’s why they wouldn’t let me go, and that just made it worse and worse. We’re not sure what it is, but it can’t be fixed and it doesn’t seem to be contagious, so … If I were you, I’d stay away anyway. Get used to the idea of me not being around, you know.”

 

* * *

 

The girl’s name is Hitoka, she’s kind and caring and loves them all unconditionally, and she’s ready to raise hell when the boy pushes her away.

The man’s name is Ikkei, he’s seen the worst of this world both before and after it ended, and he’s the strength they need, even if they hate them sometimes.

 

* * *

 

“And tell Washijou to go fuck himself.”

 

* * *

 

The boy’s name is Issei.

He’s everything he has.

 

* * *

 

His lips are moving but no words come out, even if they did they’d likely be incomprehensible, because this can’t be happening, he can’t lose his best friend, not in the same way, not at all.

He should be furious, should punch the wall and throw the table and kick it through the entire room.

Instead, he nods, and leaves, and only collapses into Sawamura’s arms when he’s home.

 

* * *

 

Acceptance is quiet.

Acceptance is realising you can’t do anything against what’s to come.

Acceptance is digging out children’s picture books you found and reading them with Sawamura every night to keep a routine.

Acceptance is going to work anyway, going to lessons anyway, going to the market talking to Oikawa and Akaashi anyway until one day it’s only Akaashi.

Acceptance is only breaking when the sun has set, only crying when nobody notices, only slipping into Sawamura’s bed to have something to hold on to so you can face the next day.

Acceptance is familiar.

 

* * *

 

Saying he doesn’t love him would be wrong.

He doesn’t love him like he loved Issei, but he doesn’t love him like he loved Oikawa, either. If anything, he’d say he loves Sawamura just as much, but in a way that is unique to him, and one he doesn’t want to call _romantic_ or _platonic_. None of these old words seem to fit anymore anyway.

If they were living in the old world, it might be the former, but Hajime can’t feel like he used to.

For now, Sawamura is stability.

 

* * *

 

He sits together with Akaashi in their lessons now. They’ve been together a lot, the two of them, and it makes it a bit easier for both. Sometimes he’ll talk about him, how they’ve survived the world out there and made it to this one, and how he despised the clean, friendly aesthetic this is trying to keep up, and how Akaashi hates it a bit, too, when so many others are still out there, dead or alive.

Sometimes he passes by the institute, looks at garden from outside. Maybe the hedge never mattered, he thinks. In the end, that was only one place.

Then he goes home, shaking his head, because he can still clearly hear him say it.

 

* * *

 

Grey ashes on grey ground, grey skeletons of trees lining grey pathways. Entering the walled city made everything seem more colourful, but lately, it’s starting to look normal.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading (and uh should I apologise?)
> 
> hq!! tumblr: akaashi-tooru.tumblr.com/ come yell with me. or at me. or on your own while I stand on the sidelines and cheer you on


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